


Left in Yesterday

by sticksandinfinitystones



Category: Glee
Genre: Famous Blaine Anderson, M/M, TW: Homophobia, fame au, some OCs, some blangst in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sticksandinfinitystones/pseuds/sticksandinfinitystones
Summary: "You were so talented, why did you ever give it up?" "Sometimes things are just better left in yesterday, Kurt."Kurt Hummel grew up just a regular kid, absolutely infatuated with the mid-2000s sitcom star, Blaine Anderson. Years having passed since his time on television, circumstances bring Blaine back to Ohio and into the halls of McKinley high. Kurt is forced to face his childhood crush, meanwhile Blaine is trying to find peace with his past. Klaine semi-fame AU.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 18
Kudos: 25





	1. Familiar Faces

**Author's Note:**

> So, guess who, like half the population it seems, decided to re-watch Glee during quarantine and accidentally became re-obsessed with their old favourite show?  
> I had a couple of old Glee pieces from years ago saved on an old computer that I hunted down after I finished re-watching it and this concept I found really intrigued me. So, I re-wrote and re-worked the idea and here we are. This will be multi-chap but I'm unsure of how long it will eventually be. This is pretty heavy Klaine and pretty pro-Kurt and pro-Blaine, so if you don't like the ship or those characters, you won't like this. There are also parts of the Glee canon that have been changed to benefit the plot of the story, nothing too major, though.

“Elijah Whise, how do you get yourself into these situations?” Said the beautiful blonde woman 

“Awww, geez, ma’…” Said the dark-haired little boy, who couldn’t have been older than twelve, “It all happened so fast! On Monday, Ashley asked to me to the dance and she’s just so nice, I couldn’t say no! And then on Wednesday, Marcia asked me to the dance and she’s the principal’s daughter! I couldn’t say no to her either or that’s – like – detention for life, right?”

The laugh track played in perfect sequence, whilst the older, blonder brother nodded his head dramatically, gesturing at the smaller boy and raising both eyebrows.

“The nerd’s right, ma’, I heard Tommy Waters got expelled after he rejected Marcia for Sadie Hawkins last year.”

The laugh track sounded again.

“Exactly!” Continued the younger boy with his dramatic lament, “And then on Thursday, Stella Dickerson asked me to the dance! Stella Dickerson, ma’! I couldn’t say no!”

“Oh yeah.” Said the older boy, commentating like he was watching a sporting event, “Little Eli-belly has been totally crushing on Stella Dickerson since fourth grade. And he would pull some serious middle school street-cred if he took her to the first dance of the year, he’s right it’s a no brainer, the nerd had no choice.”

The laugh track played once more.

“But now it’s Friday and the Sadie Hawkins dance is tonight!” Continued the smaller boy, “And I have one suit, one corsage and _three dates_! Awww geez, what am I going to do?!”

And then the theme song began to play, exactly as it had for the past four years.

* * *

If you had asked Kurt Hummel who his first crush was, he would never have admitted it to you. To him, it was so cringe-inducing, he only ever spilled it in a witty, self-deprecating anecdote or in a game of truth or dare.

Still, Kurt Hummel was not a liar and if he had to tell you who his first crush was, he would say Blaine Anderson.

The name wouldn't necessarily ring a bell to a lot of people. But the name 'Elijah Whise' certainly might. And the sitcom title _'Word to Whise'_ most definitely would, despite how it would then most likely be followed with a resounding 'meh'. 

Kurt found this crush rather embarrassing for a number of reasons he could spout off the top of his head.

First of all, admitting this crush would be admitting to the fact that he actually religiously watched the show for the full five years it was on air and that itself was a debatably humiliating fact. Second of all, admitting he’d grown up crushing on the nerdy little brother rather than the strapping, dreamy older brother, played by the now rather successful rom-com actor, Lance Lockhart was also significantly embarrassing.

And thirdly, the fact that he even remembered the name Blaine Anderson, since the kid hadn’t worked again after the show ended, dropping off of the Hollywood radar with virtually zero social media presence, was the worst of all.

He found it hopelessly embarrassing, still his heart jumped just a little every few months when the death hoax rumours circulated social media, like they did for every star that seemingly fell from the Hollywood skyline. And every time a ‘what are they doing now?’ article about the show with some ridiculous click-bait photograph of a man baring no resemblance to the young star popped up on his feed, he couldn’t stop himself from clicking out of curiosity.

See, Kurt had a lot of childhood crushes, most that he was only able to view as crushes as he grew older and came to discover his own sexuality, but Blaine was special. Blaine was the first crush he was able to recognise as a crush; Blaine was the reason he realised he liked boys. There was a reason his young-self became so religiously infatuated with a show as famously cheesy and derivative as _‘Word to the Whise’_ and Blaine was a big, big part of that. It was the first time that he, watching television, felt seen. And it gave him some semblance of hope that maybe there was a place for him in a world where he felt so vasty different after all.

Kurt wasn’t a child anymore, however. He wasn’t a twelve year old with his face damn-near pressed up against the television screen being blissfully swept away into the simple world of terrible American sitcoms. He was seventeen now, he was in his senior year of high school and as much as that one show had given him some hope for his acceptance, his first three years old high school had been determined to show him otherwise. He had been relentlessly bullied by ignorant Neanderthals for so long. It got to the point that his main tormentor, Dave Karofsky, actually forced a kiss onto his lips, causing him to break down alone in a stall in the boy’s bathroom, mourning his stolen first kiss.

After that, he’d given up trying to establish himself in the wider social circles at the school and gave almost all his energy to his designs and the McKinley High glee club. He’d spend hours escaping into his sketch book and sewing machine, countless handmade garments draped around his bedroom.

"These are incredible, Kurt." Mercedes had said in awe, the first time she'd visited what he had then dubbed his 'Fashion cave', "You made these yourself?"

"It's nothing, really." Kurt had modestly said, though he was secretly enthralled by his friend's fascination, "Just a hobby."

Then she asked him the question that changed the course of his high school career:

"Do you think you could make me a dress? You know, for the winter formal?"

By the time spring formal came around, he was hand-making gowns for every girl in the glee club. In fact, they were such a hit at the dance that he found himself with an influx of inquiries and requests for various other gowns for girls all over the school.

"That red mermaid gown you made for Santana was totally _sick_ , Hummel." One of the Cheerios had said, looping her arm in his as he walked down the hall, "Any chance you could hook me up for prom? You know what, let's talk about it over lunch."

"At the Cheerios table?"

"Well, duh!" She said, brightly, "I'm sure the rest of the girls are dying to discuss designs with you."

Next thing he knew, he became the go to for every major fashion event McKinley girls had to tackle. Quinceañeras', pageants, school dances; Mr. Schue even had him designing their nationals costumes. The last thing he expected to come of his more isolated years was a profitable small business but he welcomed it with open arms. It gave him reason, a purpose and goals beyond just high school.

He’d spent so long in his childhood fantasising over something that could really never be, he was at a point in his life now where the things he dreamed of could very well be his reality. Now instead of projecting all his hopes and dreams onto the curly-haired boy in the television screen, they lived on imaginary runways and boutiques. Spaces he knew he could occupy if he just kept working, if he just kept pushing forward and he allowed his business to grow organically in the way it steadily had since spring that year.

Kurt Hummel was seventeen now and finally in his senior year, his biggest tormentor had transferred schools and his ever-growing business had given him some respectability among the McKinley elite. This was his year. This was the year where he cut and sewed his way out of Ohio, this was the year he had stakes in the highest social circles at his school. This was the year he had been waiting for, the year where it all truly began for him.

And maybe by the end of it, when his talents and aspirations had taken him far away from his small town, he would find himself in a big city, hand in hand with a nice boy who too had been waiting his whole life to find some sort of teenage dream.

Yes, his dreams had extended far beyond the absurd fantasies about the boy in that one television show that ended almost four years ago now. His dreams were real, they were tangible. And there was no way he was taking any steps back.

So when he bumped straight into a familiar pair of twinkling eyes, he immediately had to shake himself away from childhood dream they drew him back to.

“Sorry!” Said the boy, whom he had collided with at the Lima bean, “Oh man, I hope that doesn’t stain...”

Kurt stared down at the splash of iced Americano that now tainted the front of his perfectly pressed white shirt.

“It’s fine…” Said Kurt, in a thin voice that most definitely indicated the opposite, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“I’m not sure what I can do about the shirt but I could replace that coffee for you, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Kurt looked from the despairing stain on his specifically selected first day of school outfit and up at the perpetrator. The boy happened to be walking through the Lima bean door the moment he chose to exit, while Kurt was too distracted by his phone to notice which had ended in a collision to which Kurt’s shirt was the only fatality. When they met eyes, Kurt instantaneously felt a familiarity with the handsome stranger.

He was on the smaller side, about two inches shorter than Kurt and was dressed in tight fitting red pants, a black polo that was equally form fitting and pair of black boating shoes. His skin was a light olive tone and miraculously free of teenage acne and his dark hair was gelled back into a clearly perfected and intricate style. It was his eyes, though, that left Kurt at a loss for words.

They were a warm, shining hazel that looked on at him in concern and anticipation. It was crazy how much they reminded him of-

“Is that a no on the coffee?” Said the boy, interrupting his train of thought, “Or yes? I’m sorry, I know this is annoying but I’m going to be late for school.”

Kurt forced himself back into reality, blinking away the thoughts of the familiar eyes.

“No, it’s fine.” He said, “I’m late too.”

He pushed past the boy before he could say anything further and hurried back to his car, trying to shake the image of the eyes from his head. He closed the door behind him and took a moment in the silence of the vehicle, taking a deep breath and centring himself.

“Okay, Hummel.” He muttered, “So your first day outfit is wrecked by a stranger who’s got you thinking back in fantasies. No big deal, not the end of the world. You’re designer, you can fix this.”

He leaned into the back seat of his car and wrestled with the near-secondary closet that now existed in the un-occupied space. He peeled through the clothes, searching for something that might save the situation, muttering and rejecting various fabrics and patterns till he landed on exactly what he needed.

A simple plain black t-shirt. He unbuttoned his white shirt, removing the accompanying waistcoat, hippo broach and tie. He pulled the shirt over his head and looped a belt through his previously covered waistband of his dress pants, tucking the new selection in to complete the look.

“Okay.” He breathed, taking a moment to regard his new look in the rear-view mirror, “Less Cher Horowitz, more Christian Stovitz. Understated, classic; sexy. We can work this.”

He made it to McKinley high that morning just in time to catch his best friend, Mercedes Jones, right before first bell.

She looked him up and down, nodding in approval. “Alright, Hummel.” She praised, “Not what I expected from you but I’m feeling the first day fit. Nice job.”

“Please, like this would be my first choice.” He said with a sigh, interlocking his arm with hers as they both proceeded down the hallway, “I had a run in with some kid while grabbing my coffee this morning. Remind me to never wear white again.”

“You might want to thank that kid if you ever see him again.” She said, “I’m getting European catwalk, side stage vibes. Very chic. Very fashion forward businessman.”

Kurt nodded. “That’s what this year is all about, ‘Cedes. I gotta project business.”

“And glee.” She added, raising an eyebrow at him, “It’s our last shot at nationals, Kurt.”

“Of course, glee too.” He replied, “Grades, glee and business. If I can keep it all in balance, senior year should go off without a hitch.”

“Yeah, about that…” Said Mercedes, stopping in her tracks, eyes narrowing in on a target in front of her

“Porcelain!” Said the unmistakable voice of Sue Sylvester, approaching the two, hands on hips with a smug smile spread across her face, “Just the doll I was looking for.”

“Is there a problem coach?” Said Kurt, grimacing already at the answer he did not yet know

“Figgins wants to see you in his office.” She said, handing a slip of paper over to Mercedes, “See to it that Porcelain’s first period teacher gets the memo, Miss. Jones.”

Kurt blinked in surprised at the influx of information, as Sue stared him down, tapping her foot expectantly.

“Well, you wanna keep your principal waiting or are you aiming to start the new year in the administration’s bad books?” She said, “Get moving, Porcelain, Figgins and a young Burt Reynolds are expecting you.”

“Figgins and-?”

His questioning fell on unheeding ears, as Sue promptly turned on her heels, making a B-line for Mr. Schuester, who had just slipped into the choir room.

He turned back to Mercedes who looked at him in equal confusion.

“Who the hell is expecting me?”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this note? I’m not even _in_ your first period class...”

* * *

“Mr Hummel!” Greeted Principal Figgins, as Kurt entered his office, “One of our most valued members of the student body!”

“… Good morning to you too, Principal Figgins.” Said Kurt, intrigued by the enthusiasm he’d been greeted with

There were two figures in the office that day. Figgins behind his desk, sitting up straighter and more proper than Kurt had ever seen. In front of him, back to the door sat a dark-haired boy, whom Kurt soon recognised.

“Kurt Hummel is an asset to our William McKinley glee club, he was once upon a time the kicker on our football team, a Cheerio and is now the owner of a popular small business here in Lima.” Figgins recited eagerly, to the boy sitting in front of him, “He’s a celebrity in his own right in these halls.”

The boy gave a small, polite laugh at Figgins’s flat joke before he turned around and Kurt was greeted with the same sparkling hazel eyes he had met that very morning.

“Hey!” Said the boy, nodding at him, looking vaguely impressed, “Nicely done with the costume change!”

Kurt didn't miss a beat. “Well, one couldn’t very well continue their reign as McKinley’s resident fashion mogul with a coffee-stained shirt on the first day, could they?” He remarked, slipping into the seat next to him

Kurt looked at the boy closer, now with less agitation and anguish clouding his perception. He had been certain that morning that the familiarity in the boy had been a fluke. A trick of his old infatuated mind, relating any pretty pair of golden eyes to the ones of the boy in the TV screen that was once plastered over his childhood bedroom walls. But now, looking further, regarding the lips and the slightly crooked nose, the bushy eyebrows and the little side smirk that seemed permanently glued to his face. And the _eyes_ …

“Wait a minute.” Said Kurt, trying to hide the rush of old feelings surging inside of him, “Do I… Do I know you from somewhere?”

The boy opened his mouth to answer but an excitable Figgins jumped in before he could.

“Well of course you do, this is television’s own Blaine Anderson!”

Kurt’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he felt totally disarmed. This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be real. He was dreaming, he was dreaming and in just a second he would wake up and he’d be in his bed, back at home, with only faint memories of coffee stains and costume changes and hazel eyes-

“ _Blaine Anderson_?” Kurt repeated in faint disbelief, before he could stop the words tumbling from his mouth

“That would be my name.” Said the boy, suddenly seeming thoroughly uncomfortable, still forcing the well-honed TV smile upon his face

“You may know him better as Elijah Whise from the very successful 2003 sitcom; _‘Word to the Whise’_ , yes?” Mr Figgins went on, “That’s _Whise_ spelt with a H, in reference to the surname of said family in which the sitcom focuses. It’s a play on words, very clever indeed.”

Blaine seemed to cringe a little at Figgins’s explanation but stubbornly maintained his polite demeanour. “Thank you, Principal Figgins.”

“A very good television show, indeed.” Said Figgins, “I’m sure Mr Hummel here is a very big fan.”

“I’m familiar…” Said Kurt, suddenly wishing the chair he was sitting in would swallow him up

“Young Mr Anderson is an Ohio native, Mr Hummel.” Figgins further explained, speaking again before Blaine could get a word in edge-ways, “And, would you believe it? He’s chosen to spend his junior year of high school here with us, at McKinley.”

Kurt found himself feeling thoroughly confused, all the teen magazine knowledge he had catalogued in the deepest recesses of his brain betraying him in that moment.

“Wait.” He said to Blaine, “You’re from Lima?”

“Westerville, originally.” Blaine explained, “But my parents wanted to be nearer to my grandma, who retired here, so we moved.”

Kurt still found himself confused. In the back of his mind, the little clip he had taped of the behind the scenes week of _Whise_ that he used to watch over and over again, played on loop.

_“-Tell us something about yourself.”_

_“Umm hello. I’m Blaine. I play Elijah on the show.”_

_“And how old are you, Blaine who plays Elijah?”_

_“I’m nine.”_

_“And where are you from, Blaine who plays Elijah who is nine?”_

_“I’m from here.”_

_“Los Angeles?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“…. Not much of a talker, are ya, Blaine?”_

_“Lance, shouldn’t you be learning your lines? You know you messed that scene up earlier-“_

_“Alright, cut!”_

“You may also know his brother, Cooper Anderson.” Figgins continued, snapping Kurt out of the memory, “Notable soap opera actor and commercial star. Very handsome and very successful, perhaps he could pay us a visit sometime?”

Blaine’s smile seemed to pull just a little bit tighter. “I’ll be sure to ask next time he calls…”

Kurt pulled his gaze away from the boy he’d embarrassingly been staring at in fascination since his name dropped and turned his attention to Figgins. Here he was, sitting in his principal’s office, face to face with the guy that spilled coffee on his shirt that morning, who just so happened to be his childhood celebrity crush all grown up. Sure, Blaine was here to go to school near his grandparents, made total sense. But what the hell did that have to do with him?

“Sorry, sir but why am I here exactly?” He said, before quickly turning to the smaller boy beside him, “Not that it’s not nice to have a proper introduction, Blaine. I’m just a little confused about the nature of this meeting?”

“I wanted to make sure Mr. Anderson here is well acquainted at this school.” Figgins explained, gesturing towards him, “And I thought who better than Mr Kurt Hummel, our own resident McKinley celebrity, to be his guide?”

Kurt found himself cringing just a little at his praise. “I make gowns.” He explained, turning back to Blaine, hoping his face hadn’t flushed as red as it felt, “Prom and school dance dresses, mostly. And some other clothes in general. Girls in the school commission me to make things for events and stuff, I have a knack for individuality that they seem to like. It’s not a big deal, really.”

“That’s impressive as hell.” Said Blaine, raising an eyebrow, “And you’ve made business from that?”

Okay. Kurt was most definitely as red as the boy’s brightly colours pants now.

“It’s moderately successful.” He said, avoiding eye contact, “I have a decent stake in the regional home boutique market. My stepbrother works on the delivery side of things and I churn out the pieces on my sewing machine at home. It’s really nothing.”

Blaine shook his head. “Don’t sell yourself short, that’s really cool.” He said, “I hope I didn’t wreck one of your originals earlier?”

“Oh, I just got that off the rack at a thrift store.” Kurt said, batting his hand, “The styling, though, all me, of course.”

“The hippo broach was truly inspired.” Blaine said, with a playful smile

“You noticed the hippo broach, huh?”

“Oh, a boy like you in an outfit like that? I _noticed_.”

Kurt resisted the urge to double take, his logical mind not allowing him to believe he heard the boy correctly.

* * *

“So, do you just have a change of clothes everywhere you go?” Blaine asked, as he walked side by side with Kurt down the now empty hallway, “Is that a must for McKinley’s fashion mogul?”

“I have _pieces_.” Kurt corrected, rolling his eyes at Blaine’s teasing, “If a peer came to me with concept at lunch, I like to have something physical to get an idea of what they want, you know?”

Kurt could pinch himself. Truly. If a asteroid fell from the sky at that moment and Kurt met his untimely demise, he would die a happy man.

He had spent so much time dreaming of the boy beside him, through screens and magazine cut outs, wondering what it might be like if he ever got to actually meet him. If he could say just one thing to the boy of his childhood dreams, what would he say? The sheer idea of it he had always considered his wildest fantasy.

Yet, here he was, walking side by side with _Blaine Anderson_. With the boy that influenced his life and he didn’t even know it. And the wildest part of it all?

It felt so _normal_. Blaine had such a natural charm about him, so very different from the awkward little boy who ran away from the ‘Lance-cam’ in the behind the scenes of that show many years ago. He was warm and open, with a totally disarming smile that could make just about anyone feel at ease with him. Within moments of speaking alone with him, removed from the awkward encounter at the coffee shop, it felt less like he were staring into the eyes of his childhood idol and more like he chatting with just the average, nice new boy. The average, nice, devastatingly handsome new boy, with a strong jawline and perfectly styled hair and a polo that fit so very snuggly around his biceps.

“This is my locker.” Kurt said, tapping on the metal, “Yours is just around the corner from here.”

“Oh, so is this the vault?” Blaine enquired, leaning up against the one next to it, folding his arms against his stomach, “Any inspired originals in here?”

“Maybe a few.”

“Well.” Said Blaine, stepping away from the locker and dropping his bag, “Any you might be willing to loan to the new kid today? I’m guessing a quick way to earn street cred in this place is to wear a Kurt Hummel original piece on your first day, no?”

“Hmmmm, turn around.” Said Kurt, twirling his finger

Blaine followed, turning slowly and graceful, as he instructed. There was something about the motion and the little playful smile that resurfaced on his face that sent butterflies surging through Kurt’s entire body.

“What are we thinking?” He asked

“I think I have just the thing.” Said Kurt, entering his combination and opening his locker

He quickly rummaged through his small accessory bin, scanning the colours for the one he had in mind.

“A-ha!” Said Kurt, pulling a bright red, clip-on bow-tie from the collection, “I _knew_ I had your shade of red.”

He handed the bow-tie to Blaine who studied it in his hand briefly before giving a little laugh and looking back up at Kurt, with eyes that re-awakened his butterflies.

“You know, it’s a common thing in the wardrobe department on television shows, to give little indications at character traits through fashion choices.” He explained, “Almost everything they dress an actor in is intentional. There are a lot of little pieces that are kind of commonly known to imply something about a character before they have to actually reveal what that is.”

“Oh?” Asked Kurt, intrigued by both the concept and whatever Blaine was getting at as he explained it, “And what would a bow-tie represent?”

Blaine laughed again. “It’s a bit of a ridiculous stereotype, really.” He said, “A wardrobe department will stick a bow-tie on a fashion forward young guy and consider that an implication that he’s gay.”

Kurt felt his butterflies all of a sudden replaced by a storm of horrendous panic. “Blaine, I really wasn’t trying to imply anything, honestly.” He interjected, quickly, “I just thought it’d look good with your-“

“Kurt, chill.” He interrupted, before Kurt could babble on any further

He did up the top button of his polo and then clipped the bow-tie Kurt had presented him with into place, adjusting it briefly in the mirror on Kurt’s locker door.

“Sometimes the implication is right.” He said, simply

Then he winked at Kurt, with those downright dangerous eyes of his and shoved his hands his pockets, walking away from the boy he knew he left in an absolute fluster with just a simple action.

Now, if you had asked Kurt Hummel who his first crush was, he would have to tell you that it was a boy called Blaine Anderson.

And if you asked who his current crush was? Kurt would once again have to admit:

It was a boy called Blaine Anderson.


	2. Lucky Number Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the response to the first chapter! This one ended up being a little longer and bit more all over the place than I intended but I hope it's still enjoyable, anyhow. The season three canon gets a little altered here, you'll be able to tell as soon as the part comes.

“- You can talk on the bosses time when you make your sales quota for the week for once, Matthews.” The large, balding man joked, nudging his friend

“Yeah, at least I’m not lying through my teeth to send people away in these piles of junk.” Said the shorter man, smacking the hood of the car he is perched on

The car comically shakes, setting off a cloud of smoke that causes the shorter man to jump. The laugh tracks sounds.

“I don’t lie.” The large man says, dragging out the last word of the sentence, “I sugar coat. Besides, how dare you insinuate I get by on anything other than my incredible good looks?”

The laugh track sounds again.

“Well, ‘cause I ain’t no homo, Frank.” Said the shorter man, nudging the larger man comically

The laugh track repeats for a third time. Another man enters the scene, approaching the other two.

“Do you guys have any idea where the wax is?” He enquires, “I wanna give the old Honda a fresh coat before I try and show it again.”

“You know that’s not in your job description, right, Johnson?” Says the large man, before he turns to his other friend again, “Matthews, have you met Johnson yet? He’s the new recruit.”

“Phil Matthews, nice to meet you.” Says the short man, shaking the new man’s hand, “Woah, that’s a strong handshake you got there.”

“Carl Johnson. And thank you, my father prided himself on teaching me the value of a strong handshake.”

“That’s an interesting wedding ring.” Comments the larger man, looking down at the new man’s hand-shaking hand, “You and the wife a little untraditional huh?”

The laugh track sounds again.

“No, no. Not a wedding ring.” Says the newer man, twisting the ring around on his finger, “Just a promise ring.”

“A promise ring?” Comments the short man, “What are ‘ya? Twelve?”

The laugh track plays again.

“No, actually, it’s sort of in place of a wedding ring.” Says the new man, seeming slightly uncomfortable, “My partner and I aren’t allowed to get married yet, so it’s a symbol of our commitment.”

“Why can’t ya get married?” The large man remarks, “Dad don’t approve of you going steady with Wendy from next door?”

A peel of laughter comes from the pre-recorded track again.

“Actually, it’s against the law in this state.” Reveals the new man, “I’m gay, Frank.”

A pre-recorded ‘ohhhhh!’ sound plays across the scene as the camera focuses in on the larger man’s face, looking conflicted in reaction to the information.

* * *

Blaine didn’t mind McKinley. Sure, it had yet to be a full day at his new school thus far but he was already finding much more success than he did at his previous attempts at public school.

His parents moved him out of Westerville when he was seven, in order for the family to uproot to L.A. to support then seventeen-year-old Cooper’s burgeoning acting career. That was the first time he changed schools.

He was happy in Westerville, he had friends and a life there. When he moved to L.A., he became the strange new kid from Ohio, no one seemed to want to be friends with him. He was a bubbly little boy, who easily won over every adult he encountered but he struggled with kids his own age. As he grew older, he suspected that came from so much time spent with his older parents and their friends, as well as the ten-year age gap between him and his only sibling.

The situation was not helped when Blaine found himself singled out at one of Cooper’s auditions. He was forced to accompany Cooper to many of these endeavours, as his parents were insistent that support was key to his success. This particular audition happened to be for a then unnamed sitcom pilot, in which Cooper was auditioning to play the suave older brother, a role he was often type-cast in. It was apparently a big deal, a duel star vehicle with Cadence Cunningham and Bill Horace Baker at the helm but Blaine didn’t really know who those people were. All Blaine knew was that he wasn’t a big fan of audition days and the one for this project was absolutely ridiculous.

He was reading lines with Cooper when the moment that altered the course of his life occurred.

“-I do not understand what happened! I followed the recipe perfectly!” Cooper recited, “Why does it taste like that?”

Blaine was bored. The family had arrived early and had to sit through hours of the casting directors auditioning another part while they waited for Cooper’s role to start being called in. It had been a long day and Cooper’s insistence on constantly running his audition sides was wearing thin on him. He’d been sitting in that same chair for what felt like forever waiting for Cooper’s number to be called and he just wanted to have a little fun. He hadn’t noticed the woman emerging from the room to his right, exasperatedly pinching the bridge of her nose, like she was just about as done with the day as he was.

“Wrong.” Blaine commented, swinging his legs back and forth in the chair, holding the too-big script over his face

“What do you mean _wrong_?” Said Cooper, irritably, breaking character, “I know that scene like the back of my hand.”

“I mean wrong.” Maintained Blaine, “As in, not correct.”

“Don’t be such a smart ass, squirt.” Said Cooper, snatching the script back, “I know I got the line right.”

Cooper scanned the sides and jabbed at the paper when he found what he was looking for. “See?” He said, “Right there. ‘I don’t understand what happened, I followed the recipe perfectly’, I got it right.”

“Nooooo.” Said Blaine, with a mischievous smile, “The _line_ says ‘I don’t understand what happened.’ _You_ said ‘I do not understand what happened.’ So, you’re _wrong_.”

“I’m basically right.”

“Except you’re not.” Said Blaine, enjoying annoying his brother far too much, “You’re wrong.”

“Blaine, stop bothering your brother.” Said their exhausted mother, who seemed as irritable as just about everyone in the room

Everyone, it seemed, except for Blaine, who was thoroughly entertaining himself by making Cooper mad. Everyone except for Blaine and the exasperated woman, who had stepped out of the foreboding room just moments ago, whom was no longer staring at her cell-phone in anguish. Instead, she was watching the Andersons.

“Excuse me.” Asked the woman, interrupting the scene, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but have you been called in yet? I don’t remember you and we’re moving on to the Dylans’ in a minute. Did we skip over your number?”

“Oh, he’s not auditioning.” Said Mrs Anderson, quickly, flashing a very Hollywood smile at the woman they all knew must have been some-what important, “We’re just accompanying Cooper, here. He’s actually auditioning for Dylan, you’re going to love him, his comedic timing is absolutely spot on.”

“Hmmm, yes.” Said the woman, clearly not interested in what Blaine’s mother was saying, her focus still remaining on him, “How old are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m seven, ma’am.” He responded, politely

“You read awfully well for just being seven.” Remarked the woman

“Oh, Blaine’s a very bright boy.” Said Mrs Anderson, “He’s always either got his head in a book or his head in the clouds.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Said the woman, kneeling to Blaine’s level, “You like getting a rise out of your brother, huh, Blaine?”

“When Cooper gets mad, he gets this funny little vein in the middle of his forehead.” Said Blaine, giggling at the memory, “Cooper likes to act and I like to make Cooper act crazy.”

The woman smiled fondly at him, a million things starting to whir about in her big brown eyes, “Well, aside from making Cooper act crazy, what else do you like to do, Blaine?”

“I like to read, I like to play the piano.” Blaine listed off, happily kicking his legs back and forth in the chair, “I really like dinosaurs. Did you know a T-Rex bite is twice as deadly as a Lion’s bite?”

“No, I did not.”

“Do you wanna see my T-Rex impression?!” Asked Blaine, eagerly, jumping up from the chair

“Blainey, not now.” Scolded his mother, “I’m sure the nice lady is very busy.”

“I’m definitely not too busy to chat with Blaine.” Said the woman, before turning to his mother, “I’m guessing you’re the mother?”

“Pam Anderson.” She responded, holding out a hand to shake

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Anderson.” Said the woman, returning the handshake, “May I ask why Blaine’s not auditioning for us today?”

“Oh, Blaine’s not an actor.” Said Mrs Anderson, ruffling his curls fondly, “Blainey-bug’s just our little day-dreamer, aren’t you, love?”

“I could be.” Said Blaine, sticking his little chin up indignantly, “I could at least be better than _Cooper_.”

“Watch it, squirt-“

“Do you wanna try, kiddo?” The woman asked, once again ignoring his older brother, “Wanna see if you can be better than Cooper?”

Blaine looked at his brother smugly and then nodded eagerly back at the woman, who then turned to his mother once again.

“Would you mind if we saw him quickly in the casting room?” She asked, “To be completely transparent, we’ve been auditioning boys Blaine’s age for the last two days, trying to find someone to play the middle child and it’s been an absolute nightmare. All the boys have been great, of course, but we can’t seem to find one that fits. We’re considering scrapping the character altogether, which would really be a shame seeing as he’s my personal favourite.”

“And you think my Blainey might be a good fit?” His mother enquired

The woman nodded, shooting a friendly smile back at Blaine. “He’s got a real little spark to him, Mrs Anderson.” She said, “The exact kind of spark we’re looking for when casting kids for projects like this. Plus, he seems to read remarkably well for his age. I just want to have him chat with the other casting directors for a few minutes, maybe read a through a few scenes if he’s up for it. Obviously, you will be in the room too, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Said Mrs Anderson, “As long as Blaine wants to.”

“I want to!” Blaine jumped in immediately, “Yes please, miss! I really want to!”

What was supposed to be just a few minutes stretched out into almost thirty, as Blaine happily and politely chatted away with the room of adults, unknowingly charming them away in the effortless way he often did. They talked, they guided him through a few pages of a script and they even brought a beautiful blonde woman into the room to read with him, whom Blaine’s mother was very excited to see.

“Hi there, pumpkin.” Said the woman, crouching to Blaine’s level and flashing a big, toothy smile, “My name is Cadence. But you can call me Cady, if you’d like.”

“Hello, Miss Cady.” Said Blaine, politely, returning her smile with one of his own, “How are you doing today?”

The beautiful woman’s face almost seemed to melt as she turned back to the casting directors. “Oh, he’s too sweet!” She said, delightedly, “I wanna bake him into pie!”

From that moment on, it felt like Blaine was going to see that room of grown ups almost every other day. He met a big, balding man that his father was absolutely ecstatic to be introduced to, whom Blaine taught to play ‘Twinkle twinkle little star’ on the piano in the corner of the room. For some reason, his polite insistence on the man’s finger spacing and words of kind encouragement the man found thoroughly entertaining, as well as the rest of the grown-ups in the room. Later he met a handsome blonde boy and a very shy four-year-old, who Blaine proceeded to bring right out of his shell with a highly engaging game of pretend dinosaurs.

Blaine didn’t know it then but that chance meeting in Cooper’s audition waiting room and the whirlwind week that followed would alter the course of his life for the following six years.

All of sudden he was shooting a pilot. And then all of a sudden his mom and dad were jumping up and down in excitement at the news they’d been ‘picked up’ by a major network.

“Do you understand what that means, Blainey-bug?” His mother had asked, gleefully, “You’re going to be on T.V.!”

Then they were shooting the episode again and the little boy Blaine had played dinosaurs with was gone and he was speaking a whole lot more.

He stopped going to school for a while, a nice lady named Abbie would do school with him on set for a few hours a day. He liked Abbie, she was incredibly kind and patient, but the experience became very isolating very fast. Although he had struggled in his new L.A. school, he found himself itching to go back and be around kids his age again.

He got to go back after they wrapped the first season, only now his face had started appearing on posters and TV promos and he began to feel more isolated than ever.

“My mom says you’re gonna be on T.V.” A girl had said to him at recess, “Jamie was in a commercial, one time. I bet you’re not as good as Jamie.”

For six years it was back to work and then back to school and then back to work and then back to school. When the show finally came to a close, Blaine was relieved to just be able to go school like a regular kid again, to just be Blaine and not Elijah.

Blaine had no desire to go back to acting, incidents happened that had the whole idea of it leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His agent and mother presented him with all these opportunities that Blaine couldn’t even bring himself to entertain. He was tired. He just wanted to go to school.

Then L.A. public school happened. Cooper’s career in the world of soap operas had really started to take off by the time _Whise_ came to a close and his mother had written a best selling novel about parenting child stars, which kept her busy hosting seminars and book tours. Los Angeles had become their home and Cooper and his mother had become so comfortable there, they never really thought about Ohio. However, when school started to get really bad for Blaine, Ohio became all he could think about. Everything just seemed to get worse and worse until it hit a breaking point.

“Oh Blainey-bug, I’m so sorry.” Said his father, holding him tightly in his arms, “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”

His father put his foot down, Blaine needed a fresh start. Blaine needed home. His dad left his office in L.A. and his mother made plans to move her business to the Midwest, they bid goodbye to Cooper, who was twenty four at the time and very much content with his life in Hollywood.

“So, you’re leaving because Blaine needs you to?” He’d said, bitterly, “Of course. Whatever little Blainey-bug wants, Blainey-bug gets, right?”

“Cooper, that’s not fair.” His mother had argued back

“Actually, do you want to know what’s not fair?” Cooper fired back, “Going to the biggest audition of your life, only for your little brother to behave like a brat in the waiting area and somehow steal the show. Literally. We go to L.A. for me and it becomes all about Blaine. It’s always all about Blaine.”

“You better stop right there and think about what you say next before you say something you’ll regret.” His father had said, warningly, “You’re an adult, Cooper. Blaine is just a kid. I’d have hoped you would’ve grown out of this ridiculous childish jealousy by now.”

He hadn’t ever quite gotten over what had happened at his _Whise_ audition.

Blaine and his parents came back to Westerville without Cooper. And Blaine returned to small town public school.

Then another breaking point.

“Why does this keep happening, John?” He heard his mother cry one night to his father, “What did my baby ever do to deserve this?”

Blaine’s parents pulled him out of public school altogether and sent him to a very sheltered, all boys private school. He was there for a year and it was perhaps the best year of his entire life. He made real friends, he got to be openly gay and no one seemed to care, every kid there seemed to be the son of some sort of wealthy person so his child stardom was barely acknowledged. There was even an acapella group that Blaine would happily watch in awe. He never thought to join, though. He was happy with his new life of obscurity in Ohio and he didn’t want to disrupt that by his name being shoved in some show choir competition program that could potentially circulate the internet.

Of course, his little corner of peace was eventually shaken as well.

“Grandma’s not well, Blainey-bug.” Said his mother, “Your father and I have decided it would be better for the family if we moved to Lima to be closer to her and your grandfather.”

“I understand, mom.”

“I know you’ve really found yourself at Dalton and it makes me so happy to see how that school has put the smile back on your face.” She said, “And you could still go, the commute would be very long, though. And there aren’t any private schools like Dalton in Lima.”

“I’d be going back to public school, then?”

“No, baby, of course not.” His mother said, shaking her head adamantly, “We’d never make you do that. We would look into home-schooling, of course.”

A year ago, Blaine would have been relieved at his mother’s ardent reassurance. But he was sixteen now and he had come into his own at Dalton. He’d found the confidence he had lost way back when and finally found the pride in himself that everywhere else he’d been before tried to make him feel ashamed of. He was a different Blaine, one who had found an identity removed from his past, removed the smart-alec little boy he’d played for six years, removed from the things that had happened to him. He felt as if he had almost conquered everything. Everything except this one thing.

“It’s okay.” Said Blaine, “I want to go back to public school, mom.”

It took a lot of persuading and reassurance, as well as multiple meetings with the principal of the school but Blaine got his way.

If you were keeping track, that’s now a total of six schools. Seven, if you count the one on set. Blaine liked to think of it as seven, it was a lucky number, after all. McKinley was lucky number seven.

It had most certainly started off lucky when he was introduced to the brilliant blue eyes of a one Mr. Kurt Hummel.

Principal Figgins was not a subtle man. When he initially met with Blaine’s family, Blaine could tell he would agree to just about anything just to have him attend his school. It seemed the William McKinley didn’t have the most notable of alumni so far and Figgins was eager to get a jump start with a student with a resume. His parents didn’t spend long discussing the nature of his childhood and had spent an awfully long time discussing the problems he’d had with his other schools. Figgins had assured them he would not have any repeat incidents at McKinley.

So, of course the student Figgins chose to give Blaine the grand tour on his first day was Kurt. Like he said, Figgins wasn’t subtle.

Kurt was wonderful. He had the kind of personality that just gelled with Blaine’s so effortlessly and he had such a fascinating role at the school. It also didn’t hurt that he was maybe the prettiest boy Blaine had seen in very long time.

He and Kurt really hit if off but unfortunately, Kurt was a senior. Blaine would have to navigate his junior classes on his own.

* * *

_“-Little did Nixon know, this victory was destined to be short lived-”_

“So, you wanna do something Friday night?”

_“-The scandal shook the nation-”_

“Yes. Not with you, though.”

_“-The impeachment hearing ensued-“_

“Come on, you know I’m a catch.”

“Yeah. Smelly trout.”

Blaine wanted to pay attention to the film, really. It was his first class in his new school and he wanted to start the year off right. Yet, Blaine couldn’t help but find himself distracted by the conversation brewing behind him. Hell, he could read about the Watergate scandal in his own time.

“Trout?” The boy behind him said, in a wounded voice, “That’s harsh, Veronica.”

“That’s harsh?” The girl chimed back, “You should hear the song Santana Lopez wrote about you.”

“What the hell, how does everyone know about Trouty Mouth?!”

Blaine stifled a laugh and prayed silently that neither of the two had noticed.

“Doesn’t matter.” Veronica replied, “You’re not on my level, even the new kid agrees.”

Crap. Well, clearly he hadn’t hid his amusement as well as he hoped. Still, he stayed stubbornly facing forward. Soon the bell would ring, class would be over and the film would be shut off. And Blaine could dash out the door before ever having to face the trouty mouth kid at all.

“I could be.” The boy persisted, “Look, let me take you to the movies. We can even see that new Lance Lockhart snooze-fest they’re blowing up all over the place.”

Just at that moment, the bell rang and the lights came back up in the class room. Blaine heard the sound of a chair scrapping out and turned to see the beautiful, brunette cheerleader jump up from her seat.

“As if, Evans.” She said, simply, before walking away with her head held high

The trouty mouth boy, who turned out to be a remarkably handsome blonde, watched her leave in despair. As the girl turned the corner out of the room, the boy locked eyes on Blaine.

“Tell me the truth, newbie.” He said, with a sigh, “I lost her at ‘I’m a catch’, didn’t I?”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “You lost her at ‘catch’. I was rooting for you, though.” He replied, “Then you lost _me_ at ‘Lance Lockhart’.”

“Wow, first day, first class and already two loses.” Said the blonde boy, shovelling the items from his desk into his back-pack, clumsily, “I blame the ladder I walked under this morning.”

“I blame Lance Lockhart.” Said Blaine, organising his own school supplies back into his messenger bag with care, “When in doubt, always blame Lance Lockhart.”

“Now, _that_ is a philosophy I can get behind.” The blonde boy said, as the two ventured out the room together, “I don’t get the big deal about the guy. Dude’s always hamming up the screen, he’s just another pretty face.”

“Tell me about it.” Said Blaine, “And, you know what? He’s not nearly as pretty in person.”

Sam shot him an intrigued and vaguely impressed look. “Dude, you’ve met Lance Lockhart?”

“We’re unfortunately acquainted.” Blaine replied, shortly and carefully, rounding the corner with his new companion, “Any chance you got algebra next?”

“Sadly, I do.” Said the boy, hardly regarding the last statement, “But dude, seriously, you got connections to that guy? That’s – like – _major_!”

Blaine could’ve kicked himself. The funny, blonde boy had engaged him first, he had started the conversation; planted the seeds of potential, normal friendship. But of course Blaine couldn’t help himself from making some sort of snide comment at the mention of Lance’s name.

“It’s whatever.” Blaine said, with a shrug, hasty to get away from the topic before the boy delved any deeper

“But that could give you a serious leg up with the ladies here.” The boy pressed on

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m gay then, huh?”

“You’re gay?”

Blaine felt his heartbeat thumping in his ears. His grip on the strap of his messenger bag tightened. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

Sam gave a dismissive laugh. “Hell no.” He slung an arm around Blaine’s shoulder, his hand slapping against his chest. “You know, I’ve never had a gay bro before.”

He let out a shaky breath, feeling the old confidence start to seep back in. “Bros?”

“Hell yeah, dude.” He said, holding out a fist to him, “You witnessed the first girl of junior yeah to shoot me down. I’d consider that a bonding experience, wouldn’t you?”

Blaine returned the fist bump and couldn’t help the genuine, warm smile from spreading on his lips. They were normally careful and calculated, he had arsenal of smirks honed from his time on television that he would intricately pull off for different purposes. It got to the point that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what his actual smile looked like anymore. He was certain, though, if he looked in the mirror then, he would have recognised it once again.

“I’m Sam, by the way.” The blonde boy added

“Blaine.” He replied, quickly, hoping Sam was fortunate enough to be unfamiliar with his admittedly rather uncommon name’s correlation to the vapid heartthrob he’d already made the mistake of connecting himself to

“Wait...” Said Sam, as they headed into the downstairs algebra classroom

Blaine held his breath. A smile spread on Sam’s face like he was a kid on Christmas morning.

“Blaine and Sam!” He said, ecstatically, “Dude, we could call ourselves _Blam_!”

* * *

He was lucky enough to have Sam in a handful of his classes, he soon discovered, which came as a huge relief to him. He liked Sam, he was easy going and kind and didn’t seem to immediately have it out for the gay kid like almost every handsome jock he’d unfortunately encountered in his old public schools. In fact, Sam Evans didn’t seem to care at all.

They bonded very quickly in algebra over their shared love of movies, sci-fi and comic books, particularly the X-Men.

“Dude, where have you been all my life?” Sam had joked, “I’ve been waiting to find the cyclops to my wolverine.”

They were coming out of their class before lunch and were deep into a conversation about the _Old Man Logan_ arch when Blaine caught sight of a familiar pair of dazzling blue eyes.

“-I just think if they could figure out some way of turning that arch into a movie, it could be one of the best comic book movies of all time.” Sam theorised, “Like Dark Knight level, you know?”

Blaine found himself very distracted by the rosy smile that spread on Kurt’s face when he caught sight of them. “Yeah, totally…”

“I see you’ve met Sam.” Kurt said, shutting his locker and slinging his bag back over his shoulder, “Already getting in the good books with the jocks, I see.”

“It was the bowtie.” Blaine replied, “Clearly Sammy knows a Kurt Hummel original when he sees it and obviously knew that meant I could be trusted.”

Sam seemed to disregard almost all of the conversation as an excited look grew on his face. “Oh, dude, you know Kurt, that’s awesome!” He said, “You’re totally sitting with us at lunch, you’re going to love the rest of the guys!”

“When he says ‘the guys’, please know he has lovingly gender-neutral intentions.” Kurt explained, “And that he also means our glee club.”

Blaine selected one of his carefully crafted Hollywood smiles and agreed politely, despite how the information filled him with dread. If anyone was going to blow his low profile, it was going to be a performer. Sam may have been happily appeased by his Lance explanation but he knew that it was unlikely anyone else would be. He made a note to himself to stay as politely quiet as possible during this lunch endeavour.

His prophecy, of course, came true almost immediately thanks to a short, brunette girl who spoke faster than the speed of light.

He was happily talking to Kurt, thoroughly enjoying watching the way his entire face lit up like a ray of sunshine when he spoke about the winter formal dress a cheerleader had already commissioned from him. Then all of a sudden a girl dropped down into the seat across the table and leaned in, eagerly.

“Blaine Anderson.” She said, immediately, holding out her hand, “It’s an honour. I’m Rachel Berry.”

He inhaled sharply but plastered a smile on his face nonetheless. “Hello Rachel.” He said, returning her handshake, “It’s an… honour to meet you too?”

He tried to play it off cool and funny, hoping this might deter the girl just a little. But Blaine learned very quickly that Rachel Berry was not the type of girl to be easily deterred. “I am a long-time admirer of your work and I know that I – among many – am thrilled to have a talent such as yours within our ranks.” She spoke so fast and with such intense passion, Blaine had flashbacks to the days sitting in Cooper’s old audition waiting areas. “I assume given your choice of company that you’ve decided to join our glee club, yes?”

“Actually, I’m just having lunch, as of now.” He said, speaking in a lower voice hoping Rachel might take the hint and follow suit, “I really don’t have any plans to join any extracurriculars, at the moment.”

“Well, I really hope you reconsider.” She said, her brows narrowing in as her stare further intensified, “Your celebrity would be an incredible asset to our team and will for sure make us stand out among other show choirs. And I’m very well aware that you can sing – I’ve researched you.”

“You’ve _researched_ me?”

“Your Wikipedia, YouTube clips – you do an outstanding Michael Jackson rendition, by that way. Truly inspired.” She continued, as if nothing she had said was even remotely out of the ordinary, “Obviously it’s all old footage but I would make an educated guess that you’ve matured into quite the strong tenor, no?”

Sam looked back and forth between Rachel and Blaine like he was watching tennis. “Celebrity?” He questioned, shooting a quizzical look at him, “Is that how you know Lance Lockhart?”

“ _You know Lance Lockhart?!”_ Said the goth girl who sat opposite Sam, “Oh my god, how?! Tell me absolutely everything.”

“What do you mean _how_ , Tina?” Said Rachel, looking at the girl as if not knowing about one mediocre mid-2000s sitcom was the greatest atrocity she could comprehend, “Do you not know who you’re talking to?!”

Blaine wished that he could make himself disappear. Better yet, he wished he could make Rachel disappear. Most people knew how to catch a hint but Rachel had completely disregarded Blaine’s obvious disdain and disinterest until she may as well have recited his Wikipedia biography. Then the inevitable happened. “Holy crap, Elijah?!” Said the attractive boy, with his arm around Tina, “Dude, I used to watch your show in the waiting room before dance class!”

The whole table was looking at him now. Except for Kurt, who was looking at his friend to the left of him pleadingly. Blaine felt sweat prickle at the back of his neck and gave them a sheepish smile. “Well, I prefer Blaine.” He said, meekly, “But yeah. That was me.”

The way they all looked at him like he was an alien unnerved him. But the one that bothered him the most, was the way his new friend Sam sat looking at him, agape. “I’m such an idiot!” He exclaimed, “You’re the little brother from that show! Dude, I used to have the biggest crush on your mom!”

“Most people did.” He replied, shortly, focusing down at the salad in front of him, which suddenly looked incredibly unappetising.

“God, I used to love that episode where you and Dylan think your neighbours are spies.” Said Tina’s boyfriend, “And you wear those tin foil hats and then you fall over the fence and you meet that girl Stella. Dude, you were too funny.”

“Yeah.” Said the guy with the mohawk, “What the hell are you doing in Lima, Hollywood?”

“I have family here.” He replied, curtly

“Mike is right, you were very talented.” Said Rachel, “I should know, I’m very talented, also. Your Wikipedia page says you haven’t been active since 2008 and I must admit, I’m curious as to why. Seems a shame, don’t you think?”

He let them talk all they wanted, people got excited when they saw people they know from T.V. in real life, Blaine was very aware of this. As much as he didn’t appreciate it, he let them get their excitement and awe out because he knew it was only instinctive. But there were some places the conversation would always naturally flow to that he just would not engage with. Rachel had just stepped into that area.

“I have my reasons and I would greatly appreciate if they could stay just mine, thank you.” He said, shortly, gathering his trash onto his lunch tray and locating his messenger bag once again, “I would also greatly appreciate it if you didn’t run around school telling everyone that the nerdy little brother from that one T.V. show happens to go here now.”

He stood up and didn’t bother to hide his irritation in any way, grabbing his lunch tray swiftly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I suddenly don’t have much of an appetite anymore.”

* * *

Blaine was agitated. At Dalton, whenever he was bothered by something he’d head to the weight room to let it all out into a punching bag. He’d taken up boxing over a year ago as a way of learning some self defence skills but it had before more of an outlet at this point. It was a place to let out his anger.

He made a B-line for the McKinley boy’s locker room after a quick stop by his locker, remembering a hard-looking punching bag dangling from the ceiling from his tour with Kurt. He could feel it calling his name as the stench of adolescent B.O. practically slapped him in the face when he entered. He weaved past the benches, thankful that it was notably empty at that time and located his target.

He let out a sigh of relief and took a moment to enjoy the comforting silence. Growing up on a sound stage, in the ever buzzing city of angels; Blaine rarely got to experience quiet unless it was in the wee hours of the night. Even then it felt like he could feel the hum of the city outside his window or hear the lines he needed to know for the following day running on loop in his head. He was always a chatty, loud, musical kind of kid before, then everything got so overwhelmingly busy and loud; he began to crave quiet.

Even now, three coming on four years removed from that life, the comfort of the silence was never lost on him.

Perhaps he basked too long, however, because just as he opened his eyes and went to unbutton his polo, he heard a door swing shut and eccentric mutterings of the cheerleading coach he had briefly been introduced to that morning.

“Sue Sylvester.” She had said, with hands placed firmly on her hips, “Fellow celebrity. Nice to meet someone in this school marginally within my own ranks for once.”

She was speaking to another woman with a slightly deeper but far more gentle voice than her own. Blaine swore under his breath and slipped behind the following row of lockers, with every intention of trying to exit the locker room unnoticed. He moved swiftly, until the mention of his own name made him stop in his tracks.

“-Anderson could get my Cheerios an even bigger buzz.” Sue stated, “Imagine, young handsome, teen gay with a glamourous Hollywood backstory captaining my squad at nationals? We’d be the only talk of the competition.”

“If I could see that kid playing football, I’d try and recruit him myself.” The gentler woman replied, “Certainly wouldn’t hurt the school’s reputation to have considerable name at the forefront of one of our teams, huh? Sure would be a shame to waste the opportunity…”

Suddenly, Blaine didn’t give a single shit about an inconspicuous exit. He marched out of the locker room, shoving the door with enough vigour for a violent clash to sound as he stormed down the hall. Fabulous. Just fabulous.

So this was it, then? If it wasn’t a pushy brunette pressuring him into joining some stupid show choir team, it was a cheerleading coach trying to use him for diversity brownie points and press exposure and if it wasn’t that it obviously it had to be something else because of course it would absurd for the school to waste this ‘opportunity’.

He wasn’t a freaking ‘opportunity’, he was a sixteen year old kid.

Was it not enough to spend the most formative years of his childhood working? Was it not enough to ogled at like he belonged in a zoo every place he tried to settle in whenever the news of his background started to circulate?

How long now, then? How long till the ogling turned into gossiping? And how long till the gossiping of his past combined with the gossip of his sexuality? How long till all of that turned into the familiar jabs and sneers?

Which one did McKinley prefer? Locker shoves or vandalism? Blaine doubted it would be long before he found out.

“Can you believe I used to watch you growing up?” A snide voice replayed in his head, “If I’d have known I was watching some damn _homo_! Talk about childhood ruined.”

“If you wouldn’t mind keeping this between us, Mr Anderson.” Came the voice of an old principal, “We’re incredibly sorry for your negative experience at our school but we’d prefer if we could keep our name out of any potential stories, yes?”

“You’re a disappointment or a publicity point.” He muttered to himself, his breath quickening as he turned the corner down another hallway, “That’s all you are. Stupid to think it’d be any different.”

He searched for an empty classroom where he could call his mother in peace. She was right, after all. Public school was never going to work out. At least this time he could get out quickly before it all devolved into the ugly inevitable.

God, why couldn’t he have just stayed at Dalton? Why did he think he could do this?

He slipped into a room with a darkened window. Surely any room with the lights shut off wasn't bound to be getting any action any time soon.

He pulled out his phone and switched the lights on, the bell sounded to indicate the end of the lunch period but he couldn’t have cared less. If any luck, he could get his mom to come pick him up before he had to have another encounter with another member of the student body or faculty at this god damn school.

His finger hovered over his mother’s contact as he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. An incredibly inviting grand piano.

Blaine approached the instrument, gently running his fingers across the shiny, black surface. It was gorgeous. He’d played on grands before, they had a baby grand in their grandparent’s house and he’d been able to play a handful at charity events his network invited him to, back in the day. It wasn’t all that often though.

And it was very rare that he ever got to play one alone.

The empty room and the beautiful piano was far too much temptation for Blaine to take. He sat down at the bench and slowly lifted the lid off the keys. He softly brushed his index finger across the surface before pressing down on one, to make sure the instrument was in tune. The sound that peeled out was so perfect, Blaine felt just a little of the ball of anxiety that had wound itself up in his stomach start to release.

Before he knew it, Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata started to bleed from his fingers and across the empty choir room. The piano was so graceful and so elegant, yet so powerful. Its delicate notes filled the room, consuming the dead air and sending welcomed shivers down his spine.

When he played the piano and when the soothing music swallowed the space around him, it almost felt like a silence within itself. Like he was enveloped within his own world, where nothing existed except for him and the music. Like an invisible bubble.

The anxieties and upsets of the day bled out of him and into the sonata, as the song peeled out, some sense started to gather within his brain.

Was he behaving too rashly? Was it foolish and too hasty for him to assume the worst of McKinley just yet? The lunch table had been disheartening, sure. But he couldn’t exactly blame the kids for being shocked, could he? And as much as he hated it, he couldn't blame Rachel's curiosity either. He didn’t have any intention of introducing that part of himself, anyway, so they were bound to eventually find out and react the same. Kurt knew, so surely it was only a matter of time before others did too.

_Kurt._

Kurt didn’t engage in the lunchroom fodder. Kurt had kept quiet and taken his cues. Still, he was aware before-hand. And still, when Figgins had excitedly rattled off Blaine’s resume, Kurt had looked at him in awe just as others did.

A small part of Blaine had hoped the wide-eyed fascination came from a place of attraction. When he had first laid eyes on Kurt that morning in the Lima Bean, he was so flustered he’d caused a coffee catastrophe. There was something gentle and elegant about his features, something he’d never seen before. He was driven yet calm, poised but clearly not so much so that he could not fall victim to moments of floundering. He was sharp and quick-witted, Blaine had thrown a handful of his Hollywood arsenal in his direction and he’d caught almost all of them.

Sam, too. Sam was a good guy, he could tell that for sure. He’d been so eager and so open to embracing him the moment they engaged in conversation, that didn’t happen a lot. And he’d so proudly declared him his new 'bro', without a single care for his sexuality, without having any inclination as to who he was. He was just excited to talk X-Men with someone.

The rationality settled in as Blaine finished off the final few notes of the Beethoven classic. Maybe it was going to be difficult, high school always was. He was never going to be just another normal student and maybe he just had to accept that. He couldn’t see into the future, there was no telling what the situation would be like once the dust had settled, maybe it would be the same old same old. Or maybe it would be different this time. He couldn’t possibly know unless he stuck it for just a little bit longer.

Blaine breathed out a sigh of relief. Much to his surprised, that was followed by a small round of applause.

He turned to see Kurt Hummel standing by the door, a sketch book and a roll of fabric jammed under his arm as he clapped.

“Bravo.” He said, heading over to one of the neatly lined up chairs, “Very nice, indeed.”

“Where did you come from?” Said Blaine, before he could think of anything else

Kurt raised an eyebrow and smiled, depositing his items onto the chair next to him. “From the lunch table that you so quickly vacated.” He replied, “It’s my study hall period. I ducked out to get a head start on some of the designing for the school musical.”

Kurt picked up his sketch pad and a mechanical pencil, looking at Blaine incredulously. “And _you_ are supposed to be in Geography. I know because a certain Mr. Sam Evans is torn up that he might have scared off his brand-new nerd friend and new go-to desk-mate.”

Blaine frowned and pulled his hands neatly into his lap. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“Just like he didn’t mean to upset _you_.” Kurt pointed out, still sketching away, looking up only to make brief eye contact, “Look, I don’t know you all too well and I won’t pretend like watching you on some T.V. show forever ago means that I do. But I can tell this isn’t your first go around with things like this.”

Blaine was silent, studying Kurt’s careful face wondering how well this boy could really read him. Kurt lowered his sketchpad to his lap and looked at him sincerely. “I can’t say much in way of understanding, but I can tell you that things really can change. Last year, I was pushed around so bad I thought there was absolutely no way I could survive another year in this place. But things changed. I persevered. And I had a group of remarkable people to help me through that.” He spoke with such kind certainty, it was difficult for his words not to resonate, “It wasn’t easy. Nothing in life that’s worth it is.”

Once again, his eyes flickered down to his sketch book. “You could have that group, too, if you’re open to second chances. And maybe a musical number or two, though you seem to already have an inclination towards that on your own.”

Blaine frowned again. “I’m not joining the glee club, Kurt.”

“Fine, frowny-pants, I won’t keep bothering you to.” Said Kurt, making Blaine instantly conscious of his revealing expression, “I can’t say the same for Rachel, though.”

Blaine moved from the piano bench over to one of the seats near Kurt. “Is she always like that?”

Kurt nodded. “It can be endearing, at times. Also annoying. She’s already campaigning like crazy to play Maria in West Side Story, the musical was only announced today.”

“Oh, I _love_ West Side Story.”

“I would ask you to try out but I feel like I already know what your answer is going to be.” Kurt glanced back up at him again, “It’s a shame, really. You’d make a dashing Tony.”

Blaine could a feel a blush creeping up his neck, taken aback by the compliment. He could see the way Kurt smirked in the brief moment he let his Hollywood charm slip. “I could always use some help with costumes, if you’re up for it. I reckon you’d have some decent insight, no?”

“I do have some experience with wardrobe departments…” Blaine said, feeling himself relax just a little bit more into his seat

“What do you think of something like this for Tony, then?” Said Kurt, handing the sketch book over to him, “I’m thinking traditional with a little modern flare.”

Blaine looked at the sketch and fought back the crack in his mask that threatened to break once again. The design was flawless, the jacket was quintessential Tony while the pants and boots gave him a little 90s edge. The Tony in question, however, bared a striking resemblance to Blaine, from the thick eyebrows to the slickly styled hair.

“It’s wonderful.”

Okay. So maybe McKinley wouldn’t be just like everywhere else, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for the response to the last chapter. I hope this one sufficed, also. Again, I love constructive comments so please let me know how you're liking things so far! The next chapter will hopefully be coming within the next couple of days.

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-da! First chapter: complete.  
> Let me know what you think, I always appreciate constructive comments. Chapter two is already written, so if you liked this more will be coming very soon.  
> Thank you so much for reading!


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